Threat.Meet.Protocol - Threat.Meet.Protocol

​Threat.Meet.Protocol

Threat.Meet.Protocol
self-released; 2025

TOP ALBUM

By Jamie Funk
​

From the coastal sprawl of Tauranga, New Zealand, Threat.Meet.Protocol. arrive with a debut that discards rock’s most iconic tool—the guitar—and somehow makes everything feel heavier. Their self-titled full-length is a ten-track furnace blast of anxiety, abstraction, and precision chaos. There’s no filler here, just a meticulously engineered riot of bass, synth, and drums that manages to feel both suffocating and expansive. Think early Liars getting into a fistfight with a stack of broken samplers while Lightning Bolt cheers from the corner.

“Fall of Humanity” sets the tone with a snarling, low-end-first assault that trades melody for menace. Austin Cunningham’s bass growls with the distortion of a dying motor, but it’s never muddy—each note lands like a gut punch. Luke Turner’s synths aren’t here for decoration either; they screech, lurch, and hiss like electrical fires in an abandoned server farm. Meanwhile, Evan Pope’s drumming doesn’t just hold it together—it coils around everything, a taut lifeline that keeps the noise from combusting.

On “Funeral March,” they find an eerie, syncopated groove that feels more mechanized than human. The track is so tightly wound it might snap in half at any moment, and when the whispery breakdown drops in, it’s not a breather—it’s bait. Seconds later, they come roaring back with a wall of sound that feels less like a crescendo and more like a demolition.

“Time (a concept)” is where the band’s experimental leanings really shine. Dissonant piano stabs stumble into coherence, wobbling between dysfunction and harmony, like The Dismemberment Plan trying to write a funeral dirge for a robot. It’s a jarring, beautiful track that refuses to resolve the tension it creates—until it does, and the effect is startling.

“Class Wars” throws the band headfirst into metallic territory, with riffs that feel engineered for structural collapse. Here, they flirt with full-on metal, but never lose their sense of control. Even at their most brutal, there’s method in the noise. “Fell Noize” channels post-rock’s slow-burn sensibilities, building from a brooding simmer to a blistering crescendo. It’s the closest the album gets to introspection, and even then, it sounds like someone quietly contemplating arson. Think Deafheaven without the guitars, but all the catharsis. By the time “Will & Gacy” hits, the band is fully in the pocket. The groove is deranged and infectious, the vocals warped and sinister. When they decide to unleash, it’s not just intense—it’s unavoidable.

The back half of the album refuses to coast. “Event Horizon” delivers unpredictable synth architecture that feels like sci-fi terror rendered in neon. “The Cure” leans into a shoegazey haze, floating momentarily before being dragged back under. “#Cancelled” snaps back into fury mode, pairing vocal contortions with a rhythm section that feels hell-bent on collapsing the ceiling.

Closer “204” is a surprise: a slow, almost celestial piece that channels Sigur Rós through a broken circuit board. It’s not a reset—it’s an exhale. A moment of stillness after a storm you didn’t quite realize had an emotional center.

Threat.Meet.Protocol. is a record that weaponizes minimalism, stripping away genre conventions to expose the nerves underneath. It’s heavy, sure, but more importantly, it’s alive—snarling, twitching, mutating with each track. Highly recommended for anyone who likes their noise smart, their rhythms dangerous, and their catharsis earned.

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